fell asleep your cigarette insomnia charred pillows stannic room flames
to rākshasas shiva granted then deprived
your psychedelic hatred for everything vivid woke up and met itself
an official visualizer song natraja dashboard
i realised i needed you more than hungry ghost realm
i needed you more than needs' need
the third eye was treacherously unappetizing don't stare at cement dust
they voyage on positive cruelty vibes
you said whatever was to come would now be i waited for you to lie still
so i could be intimately hallway alone
my head as antithesis of shiva's matted hair
my head without strength you assay
if you refuse to perish as a human become a rākshasa
there's a futility to life that only life assumes
like gulmohars spewing leaves icterine
or a kite carrying away furryball squirrel
after that silver fire your room spoke to you but you were half in wyoming
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A Feud to Carry Vol. 2, 2.1.24
“30 Days; Or Less”
February is the month of mistakes
Trial and error
The second beginning, to pick up the pieces
Left by January, left by the prior year
Left by everyone around you
And make something of the days
Building each one upon the next
Snapping into place
The shortest month
Therefore the safest to try
Let this be the beginning
Of the next day and the next day
Each step gaining speed
In the downhill race to March
Stumbling to find that rhythm
Even if you tumble and roll
Towards that goal
You are still, yes still, moving forward
@env0writes C.Buck
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Photo by @mynamemeanscloud
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Paper Hearts
What are you doing to me?
Ever since the day you looked at me,
I knew I was in trouble.
Those words you say to me,
Oh Lord, keep spinning my head.
It's been fifteen hours, seventeen minutes,
And twenty two seconds since I,
Forgot how to forget you.
It's all paper hearts now.
You can be a scissors cutting through,
Yet, I'd still fold when you're a rock.
You've signed this paper heart with your name,
And I can't seem to remember mine anymore.
You're just rendering me speechless.
Were you always this despicable?
Did you find my love high in the twinkling sky?
Ooh darling, can't you see?
There's this gravity I'm not used to,
It won't let me look away from you.
Breathe me in once, now I'm all yours.
I still can't remember how to spell my name
When I'm around you.
I forget that I need to breathe
It makes no sense to me.
Ooh darling, can't you tell?
I can't die without touching your heart.
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Spilled Inktober, 10.9.23
“Repetitive Bookworming"
How wise these gentle shepherds of souls must be
To gnaw such scholars to the core
Greater than any Alexandria, if we could usurp the almighty
What knowledge to use to wage this holy war
Oh, messengers of the departed, dearly pass on
Knowledge and spirits as well
Look into the light, so that the cycle moves onward, time is gone
As our the books, empty bindings on the shelf, like hell
Again, the words are missing, where did they go?
Father, mother, gone to the flame
Knowledge pursuit in desperate flow
Consume each line, lettered, fettered with blame
Another book, another tome, another hallway wings will roam
Flitter, flit, and flick each page
Such records read, soon consumed, and laid in loam
Oh, the flame should fill all with rage
Red and bright, oh, burning light
Where gentle souls seek out to chase
Pass on, you weary readers, into the night
Sleep, oh, dream, of distant lands and lives to soon embrace
@env0writes C.Buck
Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0
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Photo by @env0
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Kamikaze
Born on a spring day,
Cherry blossoms fell,
A Samurai with no sensei,
Birth itself was a farewell
The months before,
The real red sun rose,
1914, now October 44
The cold wind blows
Cutting through the air
Of your Yokosuka wings
Five point Kami prayer
Toward the naval, worshiping,
You think…You have never said a name,
At the Yasukuni Shrine,
Axis ahead in flames
Emperor showa’ concubines,
Safe in a palace, where are you?
Second son, Fifth oath, suicide.
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Who could comprehend this chaos, that feels like a fragmented mess? Glimpses of time, periods of life, I felt imprisoned and tortured by that suddenly awaken me late at night. Leaving me frightened and believing in things, others are so unlikely to think. Most will hear "mood disorder" then presume to doubt my sanity and they will be like all of the rest. When so many understand it's merely a reaction, that softly emerges, a result of pro-longed stress, amidst cruel, and inhumane circumstances.
C-PTSD - Mood Disorder
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104
Somewhere -
There’s an old man not so silently
Grinding his teeth
Whilst rocking on his porch
Seeking a seventh-day constellation
In a six day week.
And at some point -
He mumbles, he swears it’s there like:
The rainy-day money stored
In a book long forgotten.
Maybe it’s in Xian.
Maybe it’s in Denver.
Maybe it’s in Mom’s cooking.
It’s definitely in antiquity,
A grief on every other Wednesday, now,
And wish for the gray to go away.
- Hathaway Hayes (2024)
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all night you abandon me slowly heat wave presentiment slowly
shiva will do his tandav worlds ashen won't
there's kali you're kali blackless kali
don't worry no one could outlive life so they cabal atman
in hindi i speak with formal you ancien régime
i speak not as everyone there seems rhythm in destruction not in death
people adopt gods not their caste scions
everyone's a saviour when they don't know what to say
save me from primordial silence paramatman
you still have a refulgent hatred for nootropic lie in cremation
you smother y = love when you find it never desire lie as cremation
shavite and mahasanghik polemic sort of love
we always call someone humbug don't we i couldn't
conservatives hollow out e-waste gunfire
if you love yourself too dearly your reflection will take it the wrong way
there's no formal you in your tongue painting
if the man keeps poison suspended in his throat for you
you can't degrade him me us you you could
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— m.d.g // desiderium
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Janus Estuaries Vol. 3, 1.1924
“Another Off The List: Another On"
The hard part about having too much to do
Is writing down a list
The hardest part about writing down a list
Is that it is one more thing to do
On the newly formed list
Of things to do
Now there is one more thing to do
DONE
There is one less thing to do now
On the long list of many things to do
They are good things
Careful, loving things
Groceries, Dishes, Laundry, Sleep
Taxes, Writing, Eating, Sleep
Finding rest at end of day
Finding words, to her, to say
Getting out with strangers dare
Knowing that the world doesn’t play fair
There is so much left yet to do
I wonder what comes next
I wonder if you wonder too
@env0writes C.Buck
Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0
Support Your Local Artist!
Photo by @env0
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Burning Spear - No Destroyer
#Review |Burning Spear - No Destroyer| After almost 15 years, the Spear makes a noteworthy return with an album of good quality reggae music. #NoDestroyer #BurningMusic #BurningSpear #DaveSelimReichley #GregGlassman #JasonJackson #jerryjohnson #KarlWWright #LaurenceLewis
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BURNING SPEAR REGRESÓ CON GIRA POR EE. UU. Y EUROPA 2022
🚨🚥🇯🇲 La leyenda del reggae mundial BURNING SPEAR REGRESÓ a los escenarios CON GIRA por EE.UU Y #EUROPA.
Un regreso trascedental y majetuoso que alegra a toda la escena del #reggae mundial!
#burningspear @burningmusic #London #Rototom #Roots #usa
Que felices estamos los amantes del regrese al ver nuevamente en escena a una de las leyendas del reggae mundial. Burning Spear regresó con su gira por EE.UU. Y EUROPA este 2022. Luego de años difíciles y tristes para los amantes del reggae, puesto que grandes íconos de la escena como Bunny Wailer, Lee “Scratch” Perry, U-Roy entre otros partieron rumbo a Zion. Actualmente muy pocas de las…
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Goodreads Book Giveaway
She Planted Her Own Flowers
by Kathlene Sharpe
Giveaway ends March 12, 2024.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.
Enter Giveaway
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